


For You

by wishingwellwriting



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Make-out, Murder, Spencer deciding whether or not he wants to bang her or kill her, but not smut, he goes for bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingwellwriting/pseuds/wishingwellwriting
Summary: Spencer finds himself at the mercy of one Cat Adams, and he isn't sure that he minds.songfic for High School Sweethearts by Melanie Martinez
Relationships: Catherine "Cat" Adams/Spencer Reid
Comments: 7
Kudos: 109





	For You

It'd been a rough few weeks. He didn’t really know how to describe it, but he found it harder and harder to focus on cases these days. He can’t get his mind off of her. Her, the serial hitwoman who’s tried to kill him several times, her. Cat Adams. He’s been obsessing over her for weeks, waiting for her to pop out of the shadows, and he doesn’t know if he’s terrified or anticipatory. It’s been weeks of him trying to find her, to find himself within that. He’s sitting in a coffee shop nursing a badly burnt latte when he realizes that it’s not fear, it’s _excitement_ and he’s almost stunned. Is it the chase? Or is there something there? He shakes his head, attempting to clear the thought, but just like her, it was persistent.

JJ had told him when Cat escaped prison that it wasn’t his responsibility to catch her, that the team would find her, but he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted. He wanted to play with her again, feel the rush of her little games. He’d never admit it out loud, but the part of him that Cat unlocked excited him. The part that made hands steady and his head determined, but for every bad reason. The barista calling out startles him out of his mind and he realizes that it’s dark out, that he’d been here past the shop’s closing. He mutters out a quick sorry and drops a five in the tip jar for their troubles. He doesn’t feel great about walking all the way home in the dark without his gun, so he hails the next cab that passes. Spencer isn’t exactly thrilled with the prospect, but at least it was safer than anything like an Uber. The cab pulls to the side of the road, positioning the backseat within arm’s reach. He opens the back door and goes to say thank you when his heart stops. It’s her.

She sees the look on his face and chuckles. “Sit down, Spence. We’ve got someplace to be, and it’s looking like we’re gonna be late. You know how I don’t like to be late.” The gun in her hand tilts to the side almost lazily, and she smiles at him. His body betrays him, and he’s sliding into the car, closing the door behind him.

“Why am I here?” He says, trying not to make eye contact and chooses to look away from her and focuses on the driver, trying to remember her face.

“We have unfinished business. And I intend to finish it.” Cat scoots across the car to him, and hooks her legs over one of his, effectively squashing any chance he had at moving away from her. 

“My team will find me.” But he’s not sure he wants them to, and he finally figures out where he knows the driver from, but decides it’s better to keep the focus on Cat.

“Will they?” Cat pouts and uses the barrel of her gun to push his chin up so that their eyes lock, and Spencer realizes he’s afraid of himself. “Are you sure you want them to, Spencer?”

He shifts his focus away from her and nods to the front. “Who is he?” She waves the gun around, and just simply says, “He’s no one you should worry about, Spencie.” His stomach tightens and he remembers just how much he hates that nickname. 

“You need to take me home. This won’t end well for you, Catherine.” He says her name like a dig, a reminder that no matter how much she kills, he knows who she is. 

She flinches and shoves the gun into his chest, pulling herself closer. “Cat. My name is Cat.”

He ignores her and follows up with, “What’s your plan? What’s your endgame? You can’t shoot me. You won’t kill me.” 

She tilts her head curiously and giggles. “Oh, I don’t have to shoot you, Spencie. You haven’t even questioned why we’re in a taxi. I know you just got out of prison, baby, but you have an eidetic memory.”

He looks around him and realizes all vents in the car are pointed to the back, and when he looks back, Cat is strapping a mask on. It clicks then, that she’s recreating the taxi driver case from 2011, and he sees her smile from behind the mask. 

Muffled, she says happily, “He got it. You remembered, baby. I’m proud of you.” And the last thing he focuses on before slipping under is that she almost sounded sincere.

When he comes to, he’s bound to a chair, rope digging into the tops of his wrists. He looks up and is startled by the view. He’s in a hotel room and in front of him there’s a floor to ceiling window showcasing the second prettiest view he’s ever seen, the ocean beating against the rocks. He thinks for a second that he knows where they are, and then she’s in front of him.

“What is this?” He says, already a little bored but struggling against his restraints for show, for her. 

“This is another game for me to win, Spencie. I thought you knew me.” She pouts and straddles his lap, and that’s when Spencer notices she has a switchblade in her hand. She flicks it open and he’s struck with the thought of how pretty she is when she’s destructive and just how much he wants to be the one to destroy her.

“I’ve beat all your games before. What makes you think you’ll win this time?” He almost smiles up at her, teasing her motives out of her.

“What makes _you_ think _you_ won last time? After all, I’m the one who ended up against a wall.” He balks at that, grappling with the realization that maybe her flirting wasn’t just a game to her. 

“Is that what you want, Catherine?” She huffs at him, and leans back to get a better angle, and slices his shirt open. 

“My name is Cat.” She traces the tip of the knife over his chest and his breath hitches, and he feels himself getting more and more unsteady. 

“What’s your game? Teach me the rules.” He tries to distract her, because he’s not sure he can handle her so close, on top of him, her body heat the only warmth left in the room.

She smiles and hops off of his lap, circling him, keeping the blade pressed against his skin. “Spencie, let’s stop pretending.” She leans down to whisper in his ear and her breath against his neck is almost too much. “Let’s not pretend there isn't a tiny little piece of you that those women you loved never understood, or ever even got to see.” His breath catches and she drags the blade up his neck and suddenly she’s in front of him again. “You know I'm the only one who understands you, baby, knows how hard it is for you to be around all those _idiots_ in public." 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Catherine.” She swipes the knife across his cheek and he hisses, teeth clenched.

“Cat.” She sits in his lap again, legs thrown sideways across him. “Let’s talk about my game, okay? I’m going to tell you how to handle me. I’m going to give you very specific steps to love me good and right, Spencer Reid. And if you agree to love me, you get to live. If you don’t...I guess you’ll just have to join our dear cabbie, won’t you?” She smiles at him and for some reason, she doesn’t look so crazy.

“So what’s step one?” He lets a breath out slowly as she moves the knife back down his neck to trace over his chest. 

“Step one.” She uses her free hand to loop around his neck and up through his hair. “You must accept that I'm a little out my mind.” He chuckles at that, and she looks offended. 

“I already know you’re crazy, darling.” He tries to reach up and touch her when he remembers he’s tied down. “When do I get untied?” 

“You’ll get untied if you win the game, Spencie. Now, onto step two.” Her hand that previously was stroking calmly through his hair suddenly finds its grip and she yanks his head back. “This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line.” 

He raises an eyebrow at that, and she scoffs. “What does that mean?”

“You ask too many questions, Spencer. But since you’re so sweet, I’ll let it slide. Even the most murderous of women want a fairytale ending, baby.” He finds himself smiling wryly at that, imagining a wedding between two people as fucked up as them. “Can you agree to that?” She’s got the knife against the soft part under his jaw and there’s actual hope in her eyes. It’s now when he gets an actual look at her, sees the white lace sundress she’s wearing, and her perfectly coiled hair sits against her cheekbones, and he almost thinks she’s pretty. Almost. 

“Yes.” He says it so matter-of-factly that she’s surprised. “You’re sure?” She asks, digging the knife point in further. “ _Yes.”_ and she smiles, big and bright. 

“Step three. Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion.” She seems serious about passion, but she makes it rhyme like a joke.

“Passion?” Spencer questions, the word heavy on his tongue.

“Don’t give me anything fake. The only way you win this game is by being _honest_.”

“I’ve always been honest with you, Catherine.” The irony of the lie doesn’t slip past him nearly as easily as the lie itself did. Like a warning, she shifts and presses the knife against his cheek, threatening to make a matching cut on the other side. “Maybe not always. But starting now, I will be.” She seems satisfied with this, and she relents the pressure. She once again stands up off of his lap and he is more disappointed than he thought he’d be with the loss of her.

“Step four. Give me more.” She’s behind him now, and she’s running her hands over his shoulders. It occurs to him now that in the last hour, she hasn’t stopped touching him. Her skin meeting his felt like fire and her hands felt like silk, his tattered shirt moving like fluid under her fingertips and suddenly, he feels like shutting down. He can’t fall for her game. It’d be against everything he’s ever worked for; it would mean setting free the part of him that he is so terrified of.

She senses his hesitancy, and her hands tighten. “Can you do that, Spencer?” She breathes in his ear, and his skin lights afire and he is overcome with need to touch her, to feel her but she is in control.

“Yes.” It’s one word but it sounds like a beg, like desperation.

“These are the requirements. You must promise to love me. And if you fuck me over,

I will rip your fucking face apart; do you understand me?” Her snarl sounds like seduction and he feels her throughout his veins and now he understands why the drugs felt so good, but he knows she could be better.

“I promise, I promise.” His voice sounds weaker than he’s ever heard it, and he knows she hears it too, because she backs off a little, and pulls the knife away from his skin. She straddles him yet again and pulls his hair back, exposing his neck and presses a few kisses, working her way down to his collarbone, where she sinks her teeth in hard and fast and he can’t hold in the blissful noises he makes. She laughs and looks up and says, “Are you ready for step five?”

He feels his composure build back up, gaining confidence when he realizes that she’s nervous. Her hands are shaking and she’s sweaty, and he realizes that this performance is hard for her. He grins, and says, “Are you, Catherine?”

He realizes a little too late that teasing her is a bad idea, that he’s tied down and she’s got a knife in her hand. She takes it in stride, though, and smiles. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I wasn’t ready for all of you, Spencie.” She slices the rest of his shirt and pulls it off of his body as much as she can and runs her fingers down his chest and stomach. “Step five. You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand.” She seems serious, and a little sad. When was the last time someone loved her with no reservations? And not sex, real, true love. He doesn’t know if he can be that for her, but he knows that everyone deserves it.

“How many steps are there?” He asks, and this time it’s genuine curiosity, and she doesn’t get annoyed. She does, however, press the knife back up against his jaw playfully.

“Seven. We’re almost done, Spencer. But I need to know if you agree to step five, baby.”

“Yes. For you, I agree.” And the words ‘for you’ slip out of his mouth like butter and he doesn’t realize the implications of what he says until he watches her grin and her eyes widen.

“You do like me, huh?” Her giggle takes Spencer back to the first night he met her, before he really knew her, when all he knew about Cat Adams was her file. That’s a strange sort of innocence a person carries, being nothing but a governmental file on a tablet screen. “Step six. If you can't put in work, I don't know what you think this fucking is.” And he doesn’t know either, what this is. All he knows is that the way she makes him feel isn’t exactly innocent and isn’t something he can ignore. He knows deep down that she is the absolute worst thing for him, and she’ll eventually lead to his demise. But there’s something about the thought of her lips on his that makes him throw all caution to the wind, and he looks her in the eyes and says, “For you.” And they both know what it means.

“Step seven. I think this should be easy for you, Spencie, but you and I both know we love games. If you cheat, you will die.”

“Is that just for me, or do you get a free pass like with Lindsey?” Cat flinches at that, and controls herself with another swipe across his cheek, and this time he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know I only did that for you, Spencer. Don’t pretend like it was for anything else.” He believes her, and the sting in her words is almost worse than the sting of her knife. He shifts underneath her, and he sees that a tear is slipping down her cheek. He wants to reach up to brush it away, but the rope is already burning his hands enough, and she would never want such tenderness. He fears the openness in the room, the emotional vulnerability coating the air like a thick cloud and the façade falls away. Suddenly, they both feel like children playing at being adults. But just as quick as that feeling comes, it’s gone and the chaos returns.

“You won, Spencie. You agreed to all my terms.” With two quick moves, the rope is gone from his wrists. In silence, they sit and stare and neither of them know what to do. But Spencer wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her with all the passion that he promised her, and she returns fire. It’s more of a battle than he expected, and in surprise he shoves her off of him. She looks surprised but when he gets his feet under him and wraps his fingers around her throat, she understands. He backs her up to the window and shoves her into it just hard enough to stun her.

“It may have been your game, Cat, but I won, and you’re mine. Everyone will know.” And her breathing is short and stuttering but he doesn’t care at all. He kisses her again, the grip on her throat unrelenting until she is pawing at her own neck and he finally releases. She gasps for air like only he could give it to her and she says, “I have one more question.”

He raises an eyebrow at her and steps backwards, letting the pressure become equal between them again.

She grins and says, “Promise to love me?”

And all he answers is, “For you, I will.”


End file.
